Enough
by webbo
Summary: Jack wishes Sam a happy Mother's Day. Established Sam/Jack. This is NOT a kidfic. Part 1 of "Together Vignettes" Romance/Drama/Hurt/Comfort


Sam woke up and stretched her body languidly, feeling blessedly renewed and entirely lazy. She peeked at the clock on the bedside table, and blinked twice at seeing 9:07 a.m. displayed in bright red. She had felt Jack slip out of bed about an hour ago, but it wasn't unusual for him to do that on Sundays. Sam smiled as she recalled how he would always come back, about an hour or two later, bearing coffee and looking awake and eager. Sam loved Sunday mornings when she was home.

She yawned and flexed her feet, stretching again, and lay in bed looking up at the ceiling. Today was Mother's Day, and while Sam could understand the benefit of having a day to appreciate and dote on mothers, she had begun to hate it. Her mother was long dead, and although Sam rarely became emotional over her loss anymore, she had begun to crave her voice, her advice, her wisdom. In moments like these, when the world was in sync and she was at peace, Sam wondered what questions she would ask her, and what answers her mother would give.

She shifted until one of her legs was on the outside of the sheets and sighed. The other misery of Mother's Day was in the fact that her own children lay inexistent, an unfortunate side effect of a life dedicated to a brilliant scientific and military career where she had not only saved Earth from utter destruction, she had done it multiple times. Sam didn't regret her decision – she loved her career and was damn proud of herself. But, sometimes she would see children playing down the street, or catch the cry of a babe at a restaurant, or see a picture of so-and-so's child pinned up on their work area aboard the Hammond. She would mourn then, drowning in melancholy, until she remembered the joys of her life, the freedom she had without children, the opportunities of a life others could only dream of, and she would be okay.

She pushed herself up and threw the covers off, picking up one of Jack's shirts from the floor and putting it on. She figured that since he hadn't returned to bed for their usual routine, that she would just go and find him. Jogging down the steps, she stopped dead as she saw Jack come in through the front door. He was wearing jeans and a gray t-shirt, and held a white pastry box with one hand, and a bouquet of roses in the other.

"Hey!" he said once he spotted her. "What are you doing out of bed?" There was some eyebrow lifting on his part, and Sam rolled her eyes.

"Are those kolaches?" She said, ignoring his comment and gesturing for the white box. He nodded and started walking towards the kitchen.

"From the Czech place you love." Jack knew she loved them, sure, but he also knew that she preferred the sausage filled ones over the traditional fruit, and that she could easily polish down 4 or 5 in one sitting, maybe even 6, if no one was looking.

Sam walked over to the counter where he had dropped off his load and opened the box. There were 6 sausage kolaches, and 4 donuts. She reached for a kolache as Jack brought over a cup of coffee and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Good morning."

She smiled. "Good morning. Thanks for the treats."

He pulled back, patted her bottom and reached around for a donut. "You're welcome."

Sam went to pull a plate down from the cabinet, and Jack smirked as the shirt she was wearing, his shirt, lifted impossibly high. He grabbed the flowers and brought them over to the sink. He reached under the sink cabinet, pulled out their only vase, and filled it with water. He unwrapped the roses from their tissue wrapping, plopped them in the vase, and brought them over to the kitchen table, where Sam sat eating her kolache.

"Are those for me?" she asked, still chewing.

"Yeah."

Sam didn't say anything, but lifted her eyebrows at him, communicating silently.

Jack shrugged. "It's Mother's Day."

Sam got up for another kolache, and brought the entire box over instead. "I'm not a mother, Jack." She sat back down.

Jack put down his donut and looked at her. He knew this was probably a sensitive topic for her; this was probably a sensitive _day_ for her, and that's exactly why he had bought the flowers, and had driven twenty minutes to get to the Czech bakery she loved, and spent a ridiculous amount of money on roses which were usually half the price on any other day. "It doesn't matter that you're not a mother," he said firmly. "You're a woman. I still thought it'd be nice to acknowledge that you're important to me," he said picking his donut back up, "that's all."

Sam put her kolache down and picked up her coffee cup, overwhelmed by his answer. When they had decided to do this thing, that night they had tumbled into bed during his first official visit to Area 51, children was not a topic of discussion. It wasn't until the Ori had been defeated that Sam had brought up the matter, and Jack had answered by throwing out her pack of birth control and carrying her to their bed. But nothing had happened during that year, and when Sam was appointed commander of the Hammond, she told Jack that it was just as well, that she wanted the command, that she wanted the adventure, and that she was already past 40.

"The flowers are beautiful, Jack," she said, because she didn't know what else to say.

He nodded and picked up another kolache, putting it on her plate. She sipped her coffee and looked at her plate, filled with her favorite breakfast. She glanced at the roses, perfect buds in a deep shade of red, surrounded by those tiny little white flowers. She frowned as she remembered the name of the tiny white things, _baby's breath_. She looked instead to the man across from her, and she remembered their years together.

They had begun as co-workers, as comrades, as friends. The years had brought an awareness of attraction and love, an impossible love. And then there was the time of possibility, the time of reality with him, and it had been so much more than she could have ever dreamt possible. He filled her life with such personal satisfaction, such bliss, that it was almost ridiculous to think about. And suddenly she knew exactly what to say.

"You're enough."

"Huh?" Jack voiced, looking back over at her.

Sam reached her hand until it rested on his arm. "You're enough for me. I don't need anything else. I'm happy. This – she gestured between the two of them – is enough."

Jack smiled and stared at her for a long time. When her plate was empty, he pushed the box her way but she shook her head slowly, a sultry look upon her face. Getting up, she picked up the bouquet of roses in their vase and placed them on her hip for leverage. She made her way to him, and reaching for his hand, led him upstairs; her man in one hand, and her roses in the other.

 **Author's Note: A Happy Mother's Day to you, if you are a mother, or if you are not. We all have value.**


End file.
